Ipha 1795
The water ran swiftly, propelled by the driving force that hammered down mercilessly onto the terrain. The wind lashed out, swiping carelessly and wherever it pleased. It vented its petulance as was its wont until its energy was spent. Gradually, the torrent slowed and stopped. Overhead, the dark clouds moved on, thinned by the release of their burden, revealing the bright glare of the sun. At the silent building, there were stirrings. Feet danced carefully over the mud and water as horses were led out. Doors opened. A hubbub of noises ensued as travellers prepared to continue their journey. Peddlars heaved on their loads, anxious to get to the next market before the day ended and scurried off. Merchants checked their goods and followed a little more leisurely on their mules and horses.
The servant led the horse to Young-joon as he stood at the porch and helped him mount so he would not get any mud on his shoes. Nudging the horse to the courtyard and out to the road, Young-joon halted to wait for the rest to join him. A moment later, both P'ado and the servants with their pack horse came trotting up. Without further ado, they set off. They were just several ri from Uiryeong and would reach the town soon. If it had not rained, they would already have been back. He glanced at P'ado. Still withdrawn. He stifled a sigh and forbore to talk to the boy. Most of his earlier attempts had only hit a wall, it would be no different if he try now.
What was it that had soured him? Young-joon tried once more to wrinkle out a clue from the letter Yunbok had written to him. Failing that, he tried to remember all the conversations they had pertaining to the current issue but came up with nothing. He gave it up as a futile exercise. The best he could do in the following days was to settle the boy down, make the arrangements for him to enrol in the hyanggyo. The other matters would be tackled when the boy had recovered from whatever malaise had taken him. He turned his thoughts to home and smiled to himself as he thought of Su-dae and the boys. What stories, sights and gifts he would have to share with them. It would occupy them all for many nights to come.
The little group continued to head south. In the late afternoon, they passed by a familiar landmark; a seonangdang. Pieces of soddened cloth hung limply to the branches of the tree beside the seonangdang. Stubborn symbols of wishes cast by their previous owners. The sight of the steadfast stones was bolstering. Eventually, the walls of the town came into sight. Young-joon urged his horse into a faster trot, eager to be home. The horses of the other two picked up the cue and increased the pace. Soon they were clattering through the northern gates and making their way through the crowd to the residential area. Young-joon could barely keep in his excitement as he added his call to the servant's when they finally arrived. One of the gates opened a fraction and was thrown wide open when the servant behind it saw who it was. Turning, he shouted out that the young master had returned. The message was conveyed speedily. Soon, the rest of the family converged at the courtyard.
Old master Han stood at the daecheong, eyes alight and nodding to himself, pleased that Young-joon had returned safely. He watched as his grandsons greeted their father respectfully, inquiring after his health and the rigours of the journey. During his absence, they had been most attentive to their duties and proven their potential mettle in running the business. It eased the old man's worries. The family's prospects were assured. His eyes alighted on the boy behind the group and watched as he approached.
"Sir," P'ado bowed.
"You have returned safely," old master Han said. "Where is Seo Yong?" He was surprised at the shuttered look on the boy's face. What had happened?
"He has other tasks to attend to so I was instructed to return first."
Old master Han was puzzled. Did he not know what Yunbok intended?
"I see. You must be tired, have a rest," old master Han said, gesturing to one of the servants to show the boy to the guest quarters. He watched the retreating figures thoughtfully before turning back as Young-joon came to greet him. He was similarly sent to his room. Plenty of time later to hear his son's stories and to discuss whatever it was that was troubling the boy.
That night, after dinner, Young-joon regaled them with what he had seen during his journey. The boys listened avidly as he described the difficulties of travel, of getting caught in a blizzard. Su-dae could not help feeling anxious when she heard of it. She had to remind herself that he was safe and sound. To old master Han, the stories brought back memories of similar hazards he had faced in earlier years. How long it had been!
When the bells sounded for curfew, he decided it was late enough and brought the small gathering to a close. Despite their disappointments, the boys made their bows and retired, chattering quietly between themselves. Surely when they were older, they would make such journeys to see for themselves the sights described by their father. A silent figure trailed after them. Su-dae returned to the anbang. Old master Han gestured to Young-joon to stay.
"I gather the fallout you mentioned has occurred?" he said as Young-joon took a sip from his cup to wet his throat after doing so much talking.
"It has, aboji. I'm afraid I have no idea what it is. The boy has refused to talk over much." Young-joon wondered if his father would be able to discern what it was.
"Hmm ... did Seo Yong mention when he will be back?"
"I'm afraid not. In his letter, he says he will be making a journey elsewhere once his task is completed," Young-joon paused as he mentally calculated. "13th of Ipha is the deadline. It is already past that. He is probably on his way to his destination. I think, it is to find a new place to settle."
"Does he truly intend to leave the boy on his own?" old master Han shook his head, unable to comprehend the motivations for this action. "He should have waited."
"That's what I said too but he was insistent in.. whatever it was he intended for the boy. As if, he could not bear to harbour whatever it was from him any longer," said Young-joon sadly. "Whatever it is, aboji, I have promised to look after P'ado. Tomorrow, I will accompany him to the hyanggyo. He has agreed to attend."
"Does he intend to leave the house to the boy? When will Suk-kwon be returning?"
"I have no idea about that. He says he will communicate further but he should be returning to oversee the transfer if that is what he intended. As for master Park, he is coming back.. with his bride."
"Bride? What bride?" Old master Han was astonished and laughed when Young-joon explained. "That old goat! I thought he swore he will never take another?" his merriment died away. "There is another thing. What about the boy's coming of age ceremony? If Seo Yong does not intend to have the boy with the family..."
"Yes, aboji, I was asked to hold it for him. But I think P'ado may not want to have it at the moment. I am not sure. I will discuss it with him when he is of a better frame of mind. There is one other thing you should know aboji," Young-joon added. "Something occurred at Siheung but it will be better if we discuss it in the study room?" He cast his eyes around, indicating the lack of privacy in the daecheong. At that, old master Han agreed to move to the study room.
Twack! Twack! A shout. Murmur of voices, going up and down. Twack! Why were they having a bout so early in the morning? Frowning, P'ado opened his eyes to a white pristine ceiling. He stared at it in confusion before he remembered where he was. Twack! A yell, hastily muffled. What was going on? He got up and went to the windows, opening them to see the young scions of Han having an early morning go at swordplay against each other.
He sat down to watch them. Young-bae, the younger, was having a hard time against his older brother but he fought on valiantly nevertheless, despite being on the receiving end of a few hits. They fought until beads of sweat appeared before someone interrupted them. P'ado watched mesmerise as Young-joon fell into discussion on the finer points of swordplay, taking up Young-bae's wooden sword to demonstrate. It reminded him of another day, another place.
"No, don't waver wildly about so, you'll never be able to concentrate the full force if you intend to disarm the opponent ..." Twack!
"Ow! Aboji, that hurts!"
"A little pain keeps the lesson in mind, no?"
"The pain, yes. The lesson no!"
"You rascal..."
A howl wiped the smile from his lips. The vision vanished to be replaced by a jumping Young-woo, clutching his backside as Young-bae and Young-joon laughed. Sighing, he closed the windows, having no wish to gaze upon the scene any longer. He got up and put away the bedding and quilt, then stood at the bandaji, staring blankly at the wall. A call at the door distracted him. It opened to his call to reveal servants with the morning ablution and breakfast. He nodded absently when one of them informed him that Young-joon would wait for him by the gates in an hour.
He finished his wash and breakfast, then sat staring at the floor. How long he sat there, befuddled, he had no idea until someone called again at the door. Time to go. At the gates, he greeted Young-joon politely and followed him along the winding path to the main street, crowded and bustling. Familiar smells filled the air as they passed the markeplace but he paid no heed. Through the south gates they went before turning eastwards. His bowed head lifted as the faint sounds of the nongak carried to his ears. His footsteps slowed and stilled, he stared across to the distant farmlands. Not hearing footsteps behind him, Young-joon turned.
"We can stop by the paper mill later if you want," he said, noting the boy's sad gaze. "P'ado?" he said with some concern when there was no answer.
"What is there to return to?"
"It is your home, isn't it?"
"What is home? No one is there, I have no family... I have.. no father.. no father."
"What do you mean you have no father?" Young-joon was immensely puzzled by the wretched tone. "Isn't.."
"No father!" shouted P'ado, clapping his hands to his ears for he had no wish to listen to what Young-joon would say.
"P'ado!"
Young-joon ran after as the boy took off. What was the matter with him? Knowing he could not possibly keep up, he kept the boy in sight as he ran up the trail. It was empty since it led to the hyanggyo. If he stick to the trail, he would eventually run himself down as it led upwards. Young-joon hoped he did for he had no desire to trample through the forest on either side.
The trail turned. As he rounded it, his heart sank when there was no sight of P'ado. Where did he go? He looked around as he continued along, hoping to find a clue. He stopped when he spotted the huddled figure by the trail, almost hidden by the shrubs. Whatever it was that ailed the boy, it must surely be painful for him. Why did he say he had no father? Was he denying Hak-sun was his father? Or was he saying Yunbok had failed in some way? Young-joon could not imagine how his friend would have failed in his duty as a father for he himself saw how the boy was raised through the years.
Perhaps the boy saw differently? Was the family secret that Yunbok had to share so dreadful that P'ado had to say he had no father?
"P'ado, come, it's not far to the hyanggyo," he said in a calm voice. It was not the time to talk about the boy's problem, he did not think he was ready to speak of it.
"I'm not going," P'ado said in a hollow voice. What was the point? As far as he knew, his future was bleak and empty.
"All right," Young-joon did not bother to argue. "Then let's go back, shall we?" he said, biting back the word home he was about to use. "It's uncomfortable to stand about so out here," he said when the boy did not move. "You don't want ajoshi to have to use you as a seat, do you?"
No laughter but he was not expecting any. It did move the boy. They went back down the trail. Back in town, Young-joon changed his mind about going straight home for the boy would only cooped up in his room, as he had been doing during their journey. Speaking not a word to anyone and doing what? He needed some distraction.
"I've to check the warehouse," he said to P'ado. "We'll make a stop there."
The warehouse was teeming with frenetic activity when they reached it. Workers totted loads to and from the carts and mules that stood in the workyard. The annexed building that functioned as the office was crowded with haengsang and a few geogan. So many that Sang-ook was hidden from sight when Young-joon peered in. He chose not to interrupt the warehouse supervisor. Instead, he went to check the warehouse itself, trying not to impede the workers as he moved along the stacked goods with P'ado, pausing to speak with a few workers as he did so. Satisfied with his inspection, he returned to the office.
Sang-ook was swamped with orders and transactions, he saw. The two men they hired as clerks could barely keep up. The notes were almost in disarray. As he picked up a stack, an idea took hold. Smiling, he beckoned to P'ado and pulled him aside, showing him the notes and explaining what he wanted done. It was a simple task he was sure the boy could do. Hesitant at first, P'ado agreed and sat down in the corner Young-joon showed him, behind the clerks' desks. Taking up the notes on their desks, Young-joon handed them to him and left him to it while he dealt with those haengsang who were waiting to be served.
When the crowd had thinned, Sang-ook was finally able to lift his head that seemed permanently fixed in its bent position. Delight lit up his face when he saw Young-joon. He jumped up, eager to know when he had returned and to exchange news. Young-joon forestalled him and sent him out instead to get refreshments. He checked P'ado's progress and was pleased to see the boy hard at work, a frown of concentration on his face. Sitting beside him, he went through the assembled notes and explained the operations of the warehouse.
In the midst of this lecture, Sang-ook came back with the refreshments and they took a break. Surprised to see P'ado, Sang-ook welcomed the extra help and began to expound on how the business had fared during Young-joon's absence. Heaping praises on the young scions for their diligence when they came to learn the reins. He was eager for details of the journey. To which Young-joon preferred to leave for another day for there was still much work to be done. The clerks were told to have their meals and they resumed work.
It was late afternoon when Young-joon left the warehouse with P'ado, pleased to see that the boy was less distressed. It would not last long he knew. How long before he broke down completely? Whatever was festering within would have to be brought forth as soon as possible. It had been a month already. It should not continue to be withheld. How to go about it? Absentmindedly, as they passed the marketplace, Young-joon stopped by the yeotjangsu and bought several yeot. Turning, he handed a few pieces to P'ado who received them with a smile. If he eat them now, surely he would be scolded when he got home. The smile fell away. He blinked, staring at the yeot.
"So what did you do today?"
"Oh, we went to look at the dances, the performing troupes, the wrestling matches and the bull fights! That was the most exciting match of all. Aboji asked me to guess which bull would win but I made the wrong choice."
"And you were eating dasik, yeot and climbing trees weren't you?"
"How..."
"Look at your shirt and your hair! You may have washed your face, but you forgot to clean up your hair. And you washed it this morning too! You need not laugh, you. Didn't we agree he has to cut down on those?"
"Hyangya, it's a holiday, be merciful."
"Be merciful, is it? Wait till we get home."
"Let's run away tonight."
"I'll just follow you, no matter where you go, you can't hide."
"So true, till the ends of the earth, to the heavens...forever."
"Aboji! I'm hungry!" Laughter. ... a little girl came up to him with a bowl ...
"Oppa, have a taste of this. I made it myself."
"You made kongnyeot! ... This is delicious."
"You really like it?"
"I do."
"Really? I shall make it for you in three year's time!"
"Why three years?"
"It's your special year after the three!"
"P'ado. P'ado!" Young-joon wondered what the boy was thinking about, staring at the candy. "Is there a problem with the yeot?"
"No ... I'll .. I'll eat it later."
"You''ll dirty the shirt." Young-joon requested a piece of paper taken from the yeotjangsu and wrapped up the yeot. "Come, let's go." He prodded the boy to head in the right direction, not trusting him to know where he was going as he moved along with bowed head and drooping shoulders. The picture of utter dejection. A wave of irritation rose in him at Yun-bok: could not he at least tell an old friend what was the problem? How was he supposed to help if he was in the dark?
Once they reached the Han residence, P'ado made for his room. Shaking his head, Young-joon went to the anbang to give the yeot to Su-dae before heading for the main study room, pausing briefly outside the library when he heard voices reading aloud. Pleased, he continued on to the main study and called softly. When his father answered, he opened the door and went in. His father, he noted, was looking at one of Hyewon's paintings.
"Is that genuine?" he asked, seating himself after bowing in greeting.
"This is one of the paintings released over the last few years. It is genuine since I asked for it before it could be transferred elsewhere," old master Han said, turning the painting so Young-joon could read what was written.
The flute sound is lost in the wind And the gulls have fallen into the flowery waves
His eyes roved over the painting; three gentlemen, three gisaeng, a boatman, a musician in a boat, the cliff behind them. Gulls?
"What are you looking for?" said old master Han, noting Young-joon's search.
"What do the gulls pertained to?" Young-joon blinked when his father laughed.
"He was not referring to the real thing. No, no," old master Han shook his head. Was his son so obtuse? "There are no gulls in the painting... look at their faces."
Frowning, Young-joon did as directed.
Joy in the man's face holding the pipe for his lover. Another gazed amorously at the gisaeng playing with the waves. The third gisaeng playing the saenghwang met the eyes of the older gentleman at the other end of the boat. The oarsman rowed at leisure while the musician with the daegeum played his heart out.
"I don't suppose gulls referred to the passions of the men?" Young-joon looked up to see the smile of approval. "But flowery waves?"
"Only as amorous as those of a mind, which you are not," old master Han laughed, turning the painting around again. "For one with such subtlety, his actions regards the son is baffling. But we should not adjudged him, being outsiders."
"Aboji, I am not sure how I can help the boy. For this past month during our journey, he has said little and keeps mostly to himself. I fear he has lost the inclination to further himself. He is refusing to enrol at the hyanggyo."
"Such despondence. What do you have in mind for him?"
"It is difficult to say, aboji, for I will need to know what master Park intended. At the moment, my plan is to put the boy up here, get him to come to the warehouse to help. To give him an opportunity to think over what he wants."
"Why do you think he doesn't know?"
"Aboji, he sounded lost and in despair when we were on the way to the hyanggyo. I asked if he would like to drop by the paper mill. He said he has no home, no family and he has no father."
"No father?" old master Han's eyes dropped to the painting. Was the boy denying his relationship to Hyewon? But why would he do that? "He has gone to his room?"
"Immediately. I'm afraid I cannot fathom what he is thinking."
"Hmm. We shall see how he will respond tonight."
When the summons came after dinner, surprise and trepidation were P'ado's first reactions before reluctance set in. As he hesitated and stayed still, the servant repeated the request, puzzled that this young guest would have to consider whether to answer the summons. It was completely unthinkable to show such disrespect to an elder so the servant repeated again with emphasis. Getting to his feet, P'ado followed him to the main study room where he was bidden to enter.
Old master Han gazed at the bowed head with sympathy. It must be a difficult burden to bear.
"What are the fundamental principles you have learned?" he said, turning his attention to the book before him.
P'ado was startled. He was asked to come here to answer questions on what he had studied?
"I .. sincerity, benevolence, filial piety and propriety ..," he mumbled and jumped when the book was raised and brought down on the desk with a thump.
"Are the virtues so shameful that they cannot be uttered aloud?"
"No .. that's...that's not what I meant..," P'ado stuttered, shocked at being taken to task.
"If they are not shameful, then why are you mumbling about so?" old master Han said blandly but steely. "The principles is the foundation of this kingdom, that which guided the peoples since the Yi Dynasty was formed. Is it too much to speak of them?" He got up and paced to the windows. "Sincerity, benevolence, filial piety, propriety," he looked at the pavilion in the garden. "Do you understand what they mean?"
"Yes, sir."
"Explain them to me."
"Sincerity .. is to be trustworthy in speech and committed to promises. Benevolence is not to harm and to care for others. Filial piety is to revere, to love one's parents. To comfort, to bring happiness to them, to bring honor to the family name and to be a success. Propriety is to guard one's behaviour and to do the right thing at the right time."
The recitation came to an end but old master Han said nothing. Tempted though he was to look behind him, P'ado kept his gaze forward, feeling like he was under interrogation by a taskmaster. What was it all about?
"Have you fulfilled those principles?" old master Han said finally.
How to answer? "I do not know."
"You do know but you have no wish to face it," old master Han closed his eyes, fingering his beard. "You have failed all of them."
Failed all of them? P'ado finally turned, confused. What did he mean?
"You went to Siheung, to fulfill a father's request but you found he was not what you idealistically visualised when you discovered what kind of person he was. You vented your anguish and disappointment that you have such a father. In a similar way, you also refused to accept your foster father, otherwise why would you say you have no father? Whatever he told you, it is unwelcomed and so you indulged in emotional tantrums and declared you have no fathers."
Emotional tantrums? P'ado opened his mouth to protest but old master Han put up a hand.
"Whatever your birth father had done, in the end, he fought to redeem himself. It has been pointed out to you. Many times by those nearest to you, who had first hand contact with him. Who knew what kind of man he was. By refusing to acknowledge his courage, you belittle his sacrifice and put little worth in the words of the others. You failed in your filial piety for you threw your father's sincerity to the ground, trampled it with your pride and declared it worthless."
P'ado swallowed, not knowing what to think but the words hurt.
"Your foster father." Old master Han looked to the painting he had hung in the room. "I do not know what he told you but I doubt his secret is as unsatisfactory as your birth father's. Of his character, one need not elucidate much for it is there, in his paintings, in his actions, in his words. It is there, for everyone to see if they have the capability to do so. You cannot deny that everything he has ever done for you, reflects this. You have failed utterly in your duty to him, to yourself. Promises you have broken, harm you have done, filial piety non existent. Last and not least propriety which you did not uphold," he glanced at the boy. How devastated he looked.
"Have you never questioned why Hyewon chose to tell you whatever it is he hid from you. How can it not be as clear and blazing as the sun? The secret will have given him no peace for he would have felt he is not sincere with you. There must be no barrier between father and son, otherwise, how can the father hope to guide the son properly? How can there be accord? Do you really understand him, the one you called father? For he certainly understands you," he sighed. "I summoned you here, in the hope that you see yourself and your fathers from a different perspective. Not from your own indulgence of how hurt you are, of how they have failed to live up to your expectations. But of how each of them tried to give you the best of themselves," he turned away. "You can go."
The guards at the ongseong paced slowly, blinking and passing desultory remarks among themselves as they kept a watchful eye at the horizon. One of them stifled a yawn and jumped when someone unexpectedly sneaked up behind him. An exchange of scolding words followed before he stepped up to the drum and began to beat a measure. It echoed in the silence, reverberating off the walls and buildings. His task done, he resumed his duty. Not long now, soon he would be relaxing in the barracks and having breakfast.
The gates below emitted loud screeching sounds as they were opened. For a long moment, there was no activity. It would take some time for the people to rise and be about their tasks. The earliest into the town would be the farmers and the ones first to step out would be the busang. He reached the corner of the ongseong and turned, facing the town as he did so. His eyes fell on a lone figure trudging up to the gates and frowned. That was no busang. Curious, he peered over the edge of the wall, waiting for the man to appear outside the gates. To his surprise, it was a boy, or near a young man from his size and height, with his plait hanging down his back. Caught out in town was he? He watched until the figure vanished into the distance.
The cool air tickled his nose and he sneezed. And again. Rubbing his nose, P'ado sneezed once more. A more heavy expulsion brought tears to his eyes. Irritably, he snifled and tried to clear his nose of the mucus. Pulling the pack more securely on his back, he walked on. He didn't need a lantern for the trail was familiar and there was some light from the moon. It was still dark when he reached the seonangdang. He paused for a moment before the stones to say a brief prayer before continuing.
The large jangseung that appeared later brought a smile to his lips. How often had he secretly poked his fingers into its features? Thinking to entice the guardian awake. Sounds were audible as he entered the village; faint calls, water, the quick slicing thuds of a knife meeting the wooden board, the aroma of food. He stood still, savouring the moment before making for the path further down. Up and up it went until finally, he stood at the low wall.
There were no sounds, no movements. Silently, he walked into the workyard and stood in the courtyard of the paper mill. Slowly, he turned and approached the vegetable patch. To his surprise, it was not barren but fllled with growing vegetables. His heart leaped. He ran across the vegetable patch to the house. His excitement fell away when he reached the porch. Dark and silent. No one was there. He had forgotten. A sudden loud crowing startled him. He turned to see the bobbing movement of the chickens. The rooster crowed again.
Not the same rooster he used to torment but one of its descendents. He smiled when he remembered how hard he had begged for its life, that it deserved to live out its life. And so it had, falling dead one morning after performing its last service. He rubbed his shoe in the dusty courtyard. How many times had he led that poor rooster on a merry chase? He turned and meandered about.
Spring and summer days, meals at the porch, the pounding and grinding of grain, weaving, the clear beat of the dadeumijil, the songs that were sung. He stopped at the corner of the porch furthest from the back room. Gentle laughter and quiet murmurings when they sat there, gazing at the night sky. On some nights, when he could not sleep, he would creep out to listen to them. More to comfort himself than to catch their words.
The kitchen was dark. No warm fire at the stove. Was there ever never a fire blazing cheerily away? Feet shuffled, happy chatter as the dough was shaped, bustling to and fro to scoop the water, to wash, to clean. Pungent, sweet, cloying, meaty smells floating about. A finger would dip, scolding. Out of habit, he looked into the pot in the corner. Empty. His heart fell lower.
The room next to the kitchen was neat and tidy. The yeon he had made for Pokkot stowed carefully in a corner. They had planned to fly it on new year's day to release the misfortunes that had dogged everyone for three years. Something gleamed on top of the bandaji. A pendant. She would be upset if she knew she had not kept it properly. He placed it in the bandaji and stepped into the daecheong and sat down, touching the floor. It was clean. Who had kept the house in order? Candles lit, a silver flash as the needle slipped in and out, a man at the desk, brush moving swiftly, soft reading. A soft clink as cup was set down on the soban, tiny clicks as the chess pieces were moved. Laughter.
The back room door opened easily. Lightly he touched the bandaji, trailing over to the wardrobe, the covered gayageum. Music in the night, magical and wonderful. It brought such visions and soothed him to sleep many times. He plucked the strings before leaving it, gazing at the the bow and arrows, the hosindo changpogeom hanging on the wall. He took down the sword and unsheathed it. How shocked and surprised he had been to discover it was a sword and not a cane. Such an ordinary looking item to hide such a dangerous surprise.
Aboji. You are the hosindo changpogeom. You exemplified everything it is meant to be.
Carefully, he replaced it back on the wall and returned to the front room. Did he not keep the brushes? He touched the row of hanging brushes at the desk, hearing a voice explaining the difference. A sob caught in his throat, tears fell onto his shirt. Where are you? His chest heaved. He huddled on the floor. Where are you?
As the sky grew brighter, a man appeared, humming softly to himself. There was plenty to be cheerful about: the rains had come, the creek was flowing, the crops were flourishing, game had returned in great numbers. There would be a good stew that night for the hunt yesterday had landed a brace of pheasants. Perhaps he would go fishing tomorrow. Reaching the courtyard of the house, he made for the kitchen and stopped in surprise. Why was the door ajar? Silently, he hurried to the storeroom to get a hoe and returned to the door. Cautiously, he peered in, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness. Nothing. He crept to the daecheong. To his surprise, someone was on the floor. Was he sleeping?
"Who are you?" he said when he reached the prone figure, reaching to turn the man over. "P'ado!" he put down the hoe. "When did you get back?" he noted the stress on the boy's face, his misery. "What has happened? Where is your aboji, omoni .. your sister?" Anxiety set in when the boy did not answer. "Did something happen to them?! P'ado!" he shook the boy when he continued to say nothing.
"I .. don't know where they are, ajoshi," P'ado said finally.
"How is it you do not know?" Chang-sun was puzzled. Did an accident split them up?
"I only know they are going somewhere."
"And they left you behind?" It was incomprehensible to Chang-sun. "We can talk about it later. You did not have breakfast, did you? Come down to the house for a meal. Come, there's nothing here to eat," he said, pulling the boy to his feet and hustled him out of the house, closing the door behind them properly. He hurried the boy down to the workers' compound. Ae-young was immensely delighted to see P'ado and eagerly enquired about the rest. To her surprise, Chang-sun gestured to her to be silent on the subject and to set a meal for the boy.
As P'ado tucked into the breakfast, Chang-sun drew Ae-young aside for a brief discussion. Had Jeong-hyang told her anything further about their plans? She thought for a moment. Other than the possibility of P'ado coming back first, there was no other indication that they would not return. But it had been hinted that the family might settled elsewhere, without the boy. They stared at each other. Was P'ado to live alone by himself? It was something they would have to find out.
"P'ado, do you know when they are coming back?" said Chang-sun once P'ado had finished. Ae-young, Changmi and Pul (Chang-sun and Ae-young's nine years old son) sat to the side, listening quietly.
"I do not know but.." The sound of hooves interrupted P'ado. A familiar voice called outside. Chang-sun went out to receive the visitor and came back in with Young-joon who heaved a sigh of relief when he saw P'ado.
"Why did you leave so peremptorily?!" he exclaimed. "I thought something had happened when I could not find you at the paper mill. It's just as well I thought to check with Chang-sun before I hie myself off into panic." He sat down with a huff.
"I did leave a note," began P'ado.
"That was ill-mannered.," Young-joon started to say before abandoning it as a lost cause.
"I'm sorry ajoshi but I feel I must come back. It is my home after all."
"So it is," Young-joon said after a startled moment. He wondered at the change of heart. His father's words to the boy apparently had a profound impact. It also portend his friend's return. His brows cleared at that thought. "What are your plans?"
"One moment, master Han," said Chang-sun. "I'm afraid I do not quite understand what is going on here."
"There has been some misunderstanding, a family affair, I'm afraid," Youn-joon picked his words carefully. "My old friend has decided that if there is no accord between him and P'ado, the rest of the family will relocate elsewhere. I am to have guardianship of P'ado until he is able to support himself."
"Brother Seo will just..?" Chang-sun said in disbelief.
"He has his reasons. They must be compelling for him to do so," Young-joon said evenly, passing no judgment.
"So are they coming back at all?"
"It depends on P'ado," Young-joon saw his comprehension. "They will communicate, he said, when they have reached their destination. When that will be, I have no idea. In the meantime, what are your plans?" he said to the boy.
"I will stay at the house, look after it until they come back," P'ado said hopefully.
"Have you given any further thoughts about the hyanggyo? About the ceremony?"
"I will plan for those when they come back," said P'ado firmly for he felt his family must be there before he made any decisions.
"You are sure you want to stay at the house?" Young-joon looked at Chang-sun when the boy nodded.
"I'm sure Ae-young will not mind feeding this big gut," Chang-sun said teasingly, eliciting a smile from P'ado. "An extra pair of hands is welcome. Tending to two houses and two vegetable patches take a lot of work."
"It is settled. I will look in on you now and then," said Young-joon, getting to his feet and went out to the courtyard as P'ado followed. "Let me know if you need anything."
"Ajoshi, when, do you think they will send a letter?" said P'ado as Young-joon mounted his horse.
"I have no idea where they are heading but it is definitely not to the north. It can be a few weeks or even more than a month. Patience," Young-joon said when he saw the boy's unhappiness. "There will be news. Until then, look after yourself."
"I will, ajoshi." P'ado watched him ride away until he vanished into the distance.
"Come, there are plenty of chores to be done!" Chang-sun clapped a hand on P'ado shoulders. "Let's save some of the troubles for your aboji when he comes back, eh?"
Yes, that was what he would do. P'ado nodded and followed Chang-sun back up the trail to the paper mill.